


To Professor, With Love

by EikoWest



Category: Dragon Ball Z
Genre: (Better Late Than Never) Valentine's Offering, (I Don't Know How This Got VERY Long), (Now With An Utterly Nonsensical Epilogue), Alternate Universe – College, Angst, Drama, Excessive Romanticism, Forbidden Love(?), Hurt & Comfort(?), Ideologically Sensitive, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Made Up (Attempts at) Prose and Poetry, Made Up Places & Alien Culture, Normal Aliens/Earthlings, Other, Possible OOC-ness, Story #193, Student-Teacher Romance, Unrequited Love(?), 腐向け, 飯Ｐ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EikoWest/pseuds/EikoWest
Summary: Gohan loves literature. And quite possibly, his professor.…
Relationships: Son Gohan Jr/Piccolo Daimaoh Jr
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	1. Professor Romantic

He glanced up at the gilded Baroque-style clock hanging from the wall of the faculty office’s reception…

It was a quarter to four.

“ _That will be all for today’s lesson. Please remain seated and wait for your monthly performance report before you go. Thank you._

“… _Oh, and Son-kun?”_

He was an excellent student. Even gifted with innate talent for remembering anything he’s ever read—which gave him the perfect excuse to be lazy—he was diligent and hard-working, dedicated and passionate. Always striving to put two hundred percent into his work—more research, more immersion. Learning new things and the way it expanded his mind and fuelled his imagination thrilled him. An all-around role model and ideal student, as far as his schoolmates and teachers, and especially his mother were concerned…

…All of which made his professor’s pronouncement earlier that afternoon all the more inconceivable.

“… _I’d like to see you in my office at the faculty department at four, if you would please.”_

That same clock on the wall now told him it was thirteen minutes to four.…

He didn’t think being called to the teacher’s office was cause for alarm just yet. However, the moment his professor handed him his performance report for the past month, his mind plunged into a state of shock.

 _How could it be?_ He still effortlessly aced every other subject, still religiously attended classes, submitted all the requirements, and overzealously participated in extra-curricular activities, and yet…

––

 **MONTHLY PERFORMANCE REPORT**  
Student Name: ****Gohan Son Jr**  
** Subject: ****Literature of the Known Literate Galaxies****

Written & Oral Exams | 65% | D  
---|---|---  
Recitation & Class Participation | 73% | C  
Projects & Homework | 65% | D  
Attendance | 100% | A+  
**Final Grade Average:** | **76%** | **C**  
  
––

The unthinkable had somehow happened.

  
  


_Gohan Son Jr was failing literature._

* * *

Story #193:

 **“To** **Professor, With Love”**

* * *

Literature of the Known Literate Galaxies was his favourite subject; nothing has changed. Well, nothing except…

“ _Good morning, my name is Piccolo Daimaoh Jr, and I’ll be taking over this class and your Literature of the Known Literate Galaxies subject for the next four months. You may call me Professor Daimaoh or Professor Piccolo, whichever you prefer. I look forward to us getting along splendidly.”_

Gohan already loved their old professor even if almost everyone else just slept through his class. But about a month ago, Professor Kami Sama announced that he was going on a four-month-long sabbatical in a sister sector of the galaxy with his assistant, Coach Popo (who mainly taught gym class), and for that duration, a substitute would be filling in for him.…

This new teacher, Professor Daimaoh Jr, Gohan later learned, was Professor Kami’s nephew and fresh right out of accelerated college and graduate course; he certainly looked it. Barring his freakish Namekian height, the man appeared to be no more than three years his senior. Unlike Professor Kami who was pruned, thickly bespectacled, and slightly stooped—practically as old as the books he was teaching (maybe even older)—Professor Daimaoh’s patches were plump and a rich hue of pink (an indicator of spry Namekian youth) and not faded yellow; his skin taut, shiny, and a vibrant shade of green instead of deep-dark moss; he stood with impeccable posture, shoulders always squared and spine stretched tall. He was a few inches taller than his uncle, robust and lean—not skinny and frail; and though he did wear a pair of black-rimmed spectacles himself, his eyes shone like sapphires behind it, lively, alert, and arresting.

Gohan has seen both young and not-so-young Namekians in their campus, of course; but he didn’t know why their new substitute professor looked like he was an altogether different species on his own. There was something about him that exuded stateliness and majesty beyond all other creatures. But the differences didn’t end there.…

When it came to teaching, Professor Daimaoh had a completely unconventional approach (a vast improvement, in his opinion). In fact, to say that their new professor was not only wondrous to behold but also simply superb in his teaching skills would have been quite the understatement.

While he has never minded that Professor Kami would read (or drone) passages from their books during lectures, he was absolutely thrilled to find that their new professor did not open the books, not even once. Instead, he always quoted passages and recited entire pages from memory. Professor Daimaoh regaled them with stories, prose and poetry in impeccable Earth and many-a-different alien languages, as though they were his own words and had never been spoken nor written before then. It was so spellbinding that not only Gohan, but the entire class found themselves wide awake and peeled to the lessons; that they had always used that period of the day to siesta was now completely forgotten.

If the collective’s improved grades were anything to go by, anyone would be crazy to contest their new professor’s style as ineffective.

Therefore, Gohan knew that it could not possibly be Professor Daimaoh’s excellent method or a lack of focus in the subject that was the problem. Because Gohan was focused, alright! His focus was already laser, even before when the subject was not presented in such a riveting fashion—that was how much he loved it. Now, if anything, he doesn’t think that he’s ever been as absorbed in any lesson—or anything at all—in all his life, as he was in Professor Daimaoh’s classes. The Namekian’s soothing yet commanding voice vivified his mind so efficaciously, kept him so completely immersed in the lessons, that every single word that flowed from their new professor’s lips was instantly burned to memory. Even the way he said those words; with his elegant accent and gesticulations, and the colourful spectrum of emotions it was delicately imbued with – the sounds and sights of his professor was a clew of earworms he happily welcomed into his brain to serenade him 24-7; the only radio frequency his mind was tuned into.

And that’s not to say that he’s been lax in other areas, oh no… Always religiously submitting every requirement before the deadline, completing seat work ahead of everyone else, passionately reciting in class and participating in activities at every opportunity available to him.…

 _So how had all his commendable efforts for the past month have resulted in failure?_ How could he be failing a subject, one that he loved!—his fondest favourite! The only way that such an anomaly could have occurred was if there was a glitch in the Universe itself! Because there was no way— _no way_ he could fail Literature of the Known Literate Galaxies even if he tried!

“Gohan-kun…?”

He shot up ramrod straight from the faculty office waiting room couch at the female voice that abruptly intruded upon his beleaguered train of thoughts. Reflexively, he glanced at the clock on the wall once more…

It was six minutes to four.

The school secretary, a middle-aged woman with a gravity-defying coiffed cloud of bleach-blonde hair was peering at him from behind her corner cube reception desk. Her lips were always painted a shimmery bubblegum shade of pink, which made the wide, pursed-lip smile always on her face seem to actually glow. He liked her and thought she was nice; always aiming a polite smile and small bow her way whenever they met at the corridors (though he could never remember her name). But at that moment, Gohan couldn’t help but feel embarrassed to be called to a teacher’s office—something he has never experienced before. _Weren’t only the problematic students the ones who sat on this very couch and made to wait outside the teachers’ private offices?_ Was she judging him right now, thinking that he must be some delinquent too?

“Professor Daimaoh will be in his office any minute, you may sit and wait inside now.”

He half-heartedly nodded his thanks to her as he mechanically dragged his feet along (thankful to be given permission to extract his buttocks from the “couch of guilt”). The moment he stepped into Professor Daimaoh’s office though, he didn’t feel any better. His heart pounded wildly against his rib cage and his mind spun in a dizzy whirl.

 _What was he going to do?_ Professor Daimaoh was going to come in any minute and ask him what was wrong. _What would he say?_ He honestly had no idea what went wrong and why he was failing! The mere idea of being confronted about it made his chest and stomach constrict in panic. 

Frustrated, Gohan grabbed his head with both hands, mussing up his hair as he tried to literally rack his brains for an answer. _Maybe there was something wrong with him and he just wasn’t aware of it… Perhaps something completely unrelated?_

Well… He did get an inkling that maybe he was gaining weight; his pants have been feeling tighter.… Strangely though, he only felt that way at around two to four in the afternoon—around Professor Daimaoh’s class. _Was he experiencing some kind of erratic growth spurt that peaked during that specific time of the day?_ _Were his hormones doing a number on his psyche, causing him to somehow unconsciously sabotage his own self?_

 _Ridiculous!_ He was a young man of seventeen now; he was pretty sure he had left puberty and whatever mad havoc it wrought upon him a long time ago! If that was the case, _how could him getting fat and putting on a few extra pounds be the problem?_ He was physically active; being a member of the baseball and martial arts club was enough to ensure that he had more than his fair share of daily exercise. Besides, growing or gaining weight were harmless physiological phenomena that happened so subtly that one hardly even noticed. He wasn’t—and never has been—the type to stress over his weight or appearance, he just didn’t have the time for such things!

In fact, Gohan had never even once stepped on a scale all his life—never even looked at a mirror longer than it took to make sure his uniform didn’t have remnants of his breakfast on it. Truthfully, he hadn’t even thought of any use for that full-length mirror by their house’s _genkan_ before. _Except…_

 _Around a month ago…_ There were some… “little” things that he had become more conscious about. Such as…

_Checking if his school uniform’s tie was on straight._

Professor Daimaoh’s necktie was always on perfectly, and very consistently so. This made him suddenly take notice of how most of his classmates’ ties were askew more often than not; and—somewhat subconsciously—it became imperative that he stood out from his peers. He did not wish to appear slipshod to his new professor… Not when their new professor always looked so spruce and dapper, and immaculately tidy.

Okay. So maybe he _did_ feel a bit more self-conscious of his own appearance all of a sudden. Though unusual for him, it was hardly usual enough to cause a stir. He wasn’t obsessing over his necktie or his hair or whatnot to the point that it distracted him from the lessons.…

But what about _other_ changes…? Changes of the more psychological kind. Ones that he couldn’t write off so easily… Like _oddly, irrational and misplaced feelings…_

 _Jealousy_ , for one.

Jealousy triggered by the slightest, most random things… Like whenever Professor Daimaoh flexed his lower jaw a little more emphatically when he wanted to stress a particular sound or syllable as he spoke. The way he enounced, syllabised, aspirated, or subvocalised parts of his sentences, lips becoming more pronounced and exposing both stalagmite and stalactite fangs. When his voice dropped to a slicing whisper or rose to a resounding boom in the most captivating way; and often, humming, slurring, or even lilting certain words more than others— _almost like he played favourites._

Gohan didn't understand why he always felt a twinge of jealousy then. Jealous of the words and syllables—and the very air that passed his professor’s lips.

Then, there was also _envy_ …

Professor Daimaoh not only always kept a very neat appearance, he also had a surprisingly stunning physique for your average teacher. Built like a casual athlete, compact all around but thicker in certain areas; it made his clothes always seem one size too small in some parts—like around his chest and rear. The standard—supposedly unflattering—long-sleeved dress shirt and straight-cut trousers that most professors in school were required to wear did nothing whatsoever to hide well-pronounced pectoral and gluteal muscles.

To which, Gohan couldn’t help a stinging pang of envy. Envious at how that shirt got to hug his professor’s tightly packed body and how those pants were wrapped so tight around his professor’s angular hips and perky behind, squeezing it all day.

 _Okay, okay—fine!_ Gohan sucked in a deep, drawn-out breath before blowing it out in a slow, regulated puff. So maybe he was just _a wee bit_ attracted to their new professor. It’s not like those harmless little feelings of “infatuation” were usurping all of his concentration… right? His concentration and focus were always at two hundred percent—he had lots to spare! It wasn't a big deal that he was puppy crushing on his professor. That’s all it was, after all; just innocent admiration. It’s not like he was completely preoccupied with thoughts of the guy!

Sure, he did find that purring voice too mellifluous, and that button nose quite unbearably cute. True, he was reminded of the man every now and then, whenever he happened to gaze at the skies or the seas, or anything blue and was constantly in awe of how there was no shade of blue quite like Professor Daimaoh’s eyes…

But those were just inevitable observations; anyone who saw the man would think the same, for sure! It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to notice such blatantly obvious things when everything about the man was so… _attention-grabbing._

So if all that wasn’t the problem, then what is? _What could be the matter with him?_

“Ah! Son-kun.”

Gohan froze where he stood, only suddenly taking stock of his surroundings. He didn’t even hear the door behind him open and close, momentarily utterly disorientated at where he was or why he was even there in the first place.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting…”

He blinked rapidly and took in steady breaths through his nostrils as his professor's padded footsteps got closer and closer, walked past him all the way the desk in front of him, and finally stopped, as the Namek settled into his office chair, legs crossed and fingers intertwined, elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward slightly.

“I trust you already have an idea of why you’re here?”

Gohan nodded. At least, he thought he did. He wasn’t quite sure of much at that point. He was failing a subject after all and he still had no idea why… Those who knew him would no doubt say that it was the least likely thing to ever happen to him; and that in itself was proof that something about him (or the Universe) was seriously off-kilter.

That, and the fact that he had been called here, to his teacher’s office— _Professor Daimaoh’s office_. Well, technically, it was Professor Kami’s office, but he doubted very much that the wonderfully intoxicating scent permeating his senses was the latter’s, since the elder Namek, while not necessarily unpleasant in body odour, always had a distinct smell reminiscent of musty old books. Gohan kind of liked it, actually…

But now that he was _this_ close and intimate with their substitute professor, he was sure that he definitely liked the way Professor Daimaoh smelled, much—to a feverish degree—more. If he was there for any other reason, he would have been inwardly rejoicing now instead of worrying. _What would it be like to have Professor Daimaoh in his bedroom all to himself?_ The corresponding images flashed in his mind for a mere microsecond, but it was enough to send Gohan’s head into a frenzied spin. He all but swooned.

“Please.” The Namek gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk, “Sit.”

Gohan swallowed—which took a while for him to accomplish; his throat felt terribly parched and clogged. He eventually managed to comply and sit himself on the chair, albeit stiffly, as his new position placed him a few inches closer to his teacher.

“I’ve taken a look at your records. I know you’re actually the class’ top student—maybe even the entire university’s, quite frankly… Your grades are outstanding.” Professor Daimaoh then faces his computer, a taloned finger scrolling the dial of his mouse downwards. “Which is why I didn’t think it was cause for immediate concern. Though, I couldn’t help noticing that your grades only nosedived ever since I took over…"

Gohan tensed in his chair.

“From what I can see, you’ve never had this kind of problem before… I was hoping it was just a temporary setback, one that you’d sort out right away. But… it’s been a month, and your grades never recovered since.”

At that point, the pressure building in the teenager's belly and throat was so great that he was beginning to see stars in his vision. He blinked several times even if it did little to ease his discomfort—for lack of a better recourse.

“Is there something you want to tell me? Any problems with the way I teach or perhaps… something bothering you in your personal life?”

Gohan stared wordlessly at his professor—the floaters in his vision still there, making the whole scenario seem even more surreal. Professor Daimaoh expectantly stared back.

He wanted to say something, anything. Just to justify what was happening—make it sound less irresponsible on his part and all perfectly rational, but…

“I’m not only your literature teacher but also your temporary class advisor, so it’s part of my job to reach out to my students and help them with these things if they ever needed it. But for me to do that, you’ll need to let me help you, of course.”

Gohan was not prepared for this. He had never been alone with the man, much less for an intimate heart-to-heart about his dismal grades… Yes, he may have fantasized about being alone with his professor this way, but he wanted it to be for other… (more romantic) reasons, not this! _This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!_

“I know I’ve only been your teacher for a little over a month, but I hope to have established some level of trust with my students in that short period.…”

 _…_ The last thing he wanted was to give Professor Daimaoh a bad impression of what kind of student—and person—he was; he didn’t want to be an embarrassment—no, he wanted Professor Daimaoh to be proud of him!

“To be honest… With your past flawless standing and from what I’ve seen of you first-hand, I see no reason for you to be failing, unless…”

_Unless…??_

“You are doing this on purpose…”

_What?_

“…Because you don’t like me.”

Gohan felt like a bucket of icy meltwater had been dunked on his head.

_N-no… It isn’t like that!_

“Of course, if you aren’t comfortable discussing personal matters with me, you can always speak to the guidance counsellor, Mr Vegeta Jr, if you prefer… (Although, I heard he can be a little on the fanatically Spartan side…)”

 _No… That isn’t it at all!_ _  
_

“Would you like me to set an appointment with him for you?”

“Please no!!! I-I mean… Th-thank you, but… that won’t be necessary, sir… I don’t wish to talk to anyone else…”

The Namek merely raised a brow at him.

  
  


…

…

“' _Love is blind.’ As Earthlings would say; and it is akin to: ’If you can touch it, it isn’t love.’ As is, according to the great poets of the Karakas Sector, where wealth and prosperity abound. Possibly so, due to that very abundance they would seek out some form of higher happiness, or gratification that is not tangible. But if we were to, say, apply such a philosophy in the Boöte-svoi Sector at the ends of the universe circumscribed by a minefield of black holes that constantly grow in size and scope, where no light from any natural or artificial star reaches, therefore, most of its inhabitants possess no sense of sight, have no mouths or noses to breathe with, nor any limbs to feel. If love is not tactile nor visible, then it can be said that they are the wealthiest when it comes to love. Yet, to those who cannot see nor taste nor touch, maybe you would ask: how are they able to feel…? All that said, they have a some of the most beautiful poems from worlds within their own minds; who’s to say that love does not exist in darkness as well? At the root of all poetic literature is love…”_

After that particular lecture, Gohan considered then that loving in silence was still love. That even if one loved within the dark lonely confines of their own hearts and never let anyone know, it was _still_ love. There was beauty in that and… _that was okay too, right?_

––

“…‘ _It’s true, I love you; because I am stupid and I know nothing!’ she said. ‘But who says that one needs to know the ‘what’s and ‘why’s and ‘how’s? Love isn’t about knowing, it’s about feeling; it is about being brave, and not being smart!’ Love was abstract like poetry; if you can rationalize it with the conscious mind, it ceases to be so…"_

_"There are feelings more physical in nature and there are the spiritual… Is either less valid than the other? All feelings, no matter how tiny, are significant. That is why romance and poetry exists. Because no thing is trivial; no thing too small to matter._

_"The finer the details, the finer the love…”_

He was determined to keep those feelings to himself at all costs. Maybe that made him smart; maybe that made him a coward. But that's what he vowed to do…

He simply convinced himself that what he felt wasn't _that_ kind of love.

…

…

The longer Gohan sat in his professor’s presence, the more the reality of it began to dawn upon him… _Every time their eyes met in class and time would stand still… Every time his professor walked past, he would catch his breath and forget to let it go… The way his heart sped up as he counted down the minutes to the start of literature class; and the way it wrung painfully in silent sorrow as the end approached…_

Realization was sinking in, and it was like surfacing from the depths of one fuzzy, lucid dream… Now that he knew he was awake and the fog had cleared, he could no longer deny it.…

Surrendering to the truth finally taking shape in his mind, his body followed suit and his posture collapsed, slumping down and burying his face in his palms. How he wished the very comfortable armchair he sat on would just swallow him whole. It wouldn’t be such a bad way to go—better than to suffer through the humiliation this way for another minute…

“Gohan-kun?”

Faintly—alarmingly—he heard the sharp squeak of tiny wheels against the carpeted floor, followed by hurried shuffling, and… His heart lurched and he couldn’t help a defeated whimper as warm hands were suddenly on his shoulders, lightly squeezing.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?”

“N-no… I-I’m fine. I’m sorry, Professor. I just…”

“Listen, if you aren’t feeling well, we can do this another time…”

“No… I–I’m just…” The half-breed made the mistake of looking up and instantly, his breathing hitched…

Professor Daimaoh was looking at him so intently. Combined with his alluring scent and the feel of those hands on his shoulders, it was all he could do to keep himself together; eyes prickling with wetness, weak-kneed and heart aflutter. The close proximity made him so light-headed, the thoughts he had been striving to gather just scattered all over again…

“I just… I feel… bad… For letting you down… That’s all.” He hung his head, deeply mortified.

“Gohan-kun, you don’t have to force yourself to do this now. It’s fine.”

Gohan heaved and shook his head vehemently. “There *is* something wrong… But it isn’t you, Professor… it’s me.”

Finally, the Namek released his hold and settled into the adjacent chair, listening intently and patiently waiting until his student was ready to elaborate further.

He hated that he disappointed his professor. He didn’t know why he did what he did—what insanity had possessed him to do it. He knew he wanted to get close to his new professor so badly; but he didn’t mean to take it so far, to the point of making his teacher take the blame for it. Gohan didn’t know how to fix what he felt, didn’t know how to make it go away for the sake of improving his grades and making his teacher proud of him…

Professor Daimaoh Jr was his favourite of all! The best teacher he’s ever had! _But how will his professor believe him now?_

How he wished he could just listen to his professor’s lectures all day… That part of his feelings was harmless enough. But there was also another side to his adoration for the man… A part of him that dreamed of holding his professor’s hand on casual walks, kissing and whispering sweet little nothings against those shiny lips as they cuddled. He wanted to be able to call him by his first name… _Piccolo._ It was such a beautiful name—a name that instantly calmed and warmed his heart for reasons that remained a mystery to him.

He tried with all his might to hold it all down and snuff it out. But he realized that he had been lying to himself all this time. Because he knew now: tamping down those feelings is impossible. What he felt for his dearest professor…

_It wasn't just silly infatuation…_

_But, there was no way he could tell his professor the truth… Right?  
_

“I’m sorry, Professor…” he sighed heavily. “I’m… I’m just a terrible student, I guess.…”

His professor’s brows slowly went up. “I highly doubt that. Tell me what the problem is, so that I can help you.”

Gohan sniffed back unshed tears, timidly looking up once again. “Y-you can’t…”

“Why not? Is it a domestic problem?”

“No, sir.”

“Is it with the way I teach?”

“NO!!!”

Gohan gave a sheepish titter at his seemingly exaggerated outburst; then in a calmer voice added:

“Far from it.” His cheeks instantly heating up at those words.

The Namek’s brows only furrowed deeper. “Have you been feeling ill lately? Sick?”

Gohan almost scoffed out loud. What he was feeling sure felt like an affliction. He was sorely tempted to say yes.

“N-no, at least, not any that I know of…”

“Why don’t we get you checked by the school nurse, Miss Launch, to be sure.…”

Gohan shook his head and smiled a sad, guilty smile. “No need, Professor.”

Maybe if if he was able to reign in his feelings much sooner, it wouldn’t have gotten this out of hand… Maybe if he didn't try to pretend it wasn't real, he could have dealt with it better and all this wouldn't have happened. He could have avoided bothering his teacher so selfishly this way.

He abruptly stood up, fully intending to leave.

“Gohan-kun?”

He needed to leave; he didn’t know how much longer he could stop himself from spilling out his heart and risking ruining everything. He had done everything to the best of his efforts—thought he had it all figured out. Now that he had gotten what he wanted: his professors full and undivided attention… He felt that it was all just one foolish mistake—a phase of transitory insanity that had overtaken his normally reasonable mind.

“I, I’m so very sorry for troubling you this way, Professor. I promise to do better from now on.” And with a deep bow, he turned towards the door.

“Gohan-kun, wait.”

His teacher stood up and reached out over his desk for something – a piece of paper; which he held up for his student to see. “I didn’t know what to make of it at first… but I have to say it _is_ quite remarkable.”

Gohan glanced back and recognized one of his test papers. All the items were left blank. He bit his lip in consternation; he doesn’t remember doing that. Then his professor flipped the sheet and his mouth fell open…

_At the back of his paper, there were no more spaces left to write on. It was filled to the brim with his scribblings!_

“To be honest, I didn’t notice that all your test papers were, er, vandalized this way—only last night. I thought they were simply exam notes, until I gave it a closer inspection. Frankly speaking, if I didn’t have to follow the school’s curriculum, I’d be giving you straight A’s for every time you did these—you certainly deserve it.”

Gohan turned back, shocked. “Y-you… you read…?”

“…All of it?” Professor Daimaoh supplied. His lips turned up at one corner. “Yes. At first, I thought they were quoted passages, but I soon realized they were original, every single one. Just like the ones you put down in place of your seatwork or recite on the fly whenever I call you in class instead of answering the given question, am I correct?”

The teenager's face turned an alarming shade of scarlet. He honestly did not remember doing all that, but now that it was being recounted to him, it was all starting to coming back… It _was_ weird. Was he that out of it that _he had he been spouting and scrawling love prose the whole time?_

“You’re one helluva gifted writer.”

In spite of his brightly burning cheeks, a shy smile found its way to his lips at the compliment.

“Does this have something to do with what’s been troubling you? Are you experiencing… what adolescent Earthlings commonly go through—what you call… uh, ‘affections’, for someone…?”

Instinctively, Gohan bated his breath.

“I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with being inspired by someone to write romantic literature… But why pour out your feelings on your test papers and such? Wouldn’t it be better to send these to the one you meant it for? That is, I’m assuming your muse is someone in your class? Going by how you don't seem to be interested in sharing your talent outside of the classroom… But, of course, I could be wrong.…”

Gohan’s face fell.

“Don’t waste your talent leaving these lovely compositions of yours just anywhere. Put it in a notebook or a separate sheet, or better yet, send it out to whoever it is meant for. Feelings this beautiful should not be kept hidden.”

Gohan’s big brown eyes widened with shock as it locked on to Professor Daimaoh’s blue ones. There was no trace of malice or patronizing there, only sincerity and concern. His jaw fell slack and couldn’t snap shut for some moments, mouth opening and closing and unable to form words.

_Was he seriously getting love advice from the person he was secretly in love with??_

“It’s not that simple…” Gohan testily grumbled under his breath when he had recovered from his stupefaction. He turned back towards the door.

“Hmm.” The Namek rubbed a clawed finger against the base of his chin. “I’m sorry I could not be of better assistance. I’m no expert in such affairs… But I think that honesty is most admirable—if not the bravest recourse—no matter the situation.”

Gohan halted in his steps. _Admirable…? Brave…?_ There was nothing laudable about coming clean in this situation. _Pure madness was closer to the mark,_ he internally lamented.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor. But 'honesty is an expensive luxury to those who are not free to choose it.' Wasn't it you who said that?”

“Actually, it was my late father who said that… But sometimes, we also tend to hold our breaths for no reason. We forget that oftentimes, one person’s honesty can be another’s much-needed breath of fresh air. And if it will free at least one soul from torment, isn’t that a price worth paying? Now, yes… _I_ said that.”

Gohan didn’t know why hearing those supposedly supporting and kind words from his dearly beloved professor struck him as hypocrisy, that it made his blood boil all of a sudden. So much so, that he gave in to what he perceived as subtle provocation and—to put it simply: our lovesick protagonist finally snapped…

“I did, you know…”

“Hn?”

“I _did_ send those to the one it was meant for… Professor.”

_It’s true…_

_I love you._

_Because I am stupid and know nothing._

_And I can’t help it._

_Now, tell me, Professor. Is it a breath of fresh air?_

_…Or just plain stupidity?_

He gritted his teeth in an effort to contain the emotions threatening to burst from chest, and without another glance back, continued his solemn trek towards the door. He didn't know why he didn't run out as fast as he could like his mind was screaming at him to do—a last-ditch effort to save face; didn't know why his body felt so heavy. Or maybe, that was his heart? He didn't know how many seconds had passed, but it felt like an eternity had passed before he finally reached the door. Gohan allowed a pent-up sigh to escape his trembling lips. He gripped the latch tightly and—

“…‘ _Who are we, if not what we love? We only live once and die forever. Don’t we all know this?’”_

Gohan stopped dead, eyes wide and ears pinging in recognition.

“‘ _Yet we choose to stop breathing while our hearts still pumping. We choose to stifle that which makes us alive just to keep on living. A life sans love…’”_

For a moment he couldn’t fully process what was happening…

_His beloved professor… was reciting prose to him…?_

“…‘ _A lie, it is but a lie. Isn't freedom such a blessed thing? Oh, but love, it is the sweetest lie of all.’…”_

_His prose._

He blinked blearily at his now trembling hand which had the door latch in a death grip. Slowly, carefully, he released his hold and spun around to find Professor Daimaoh standing with his back towards his desk, facing him. There was no sign of his test paper in his hands.

All other thoughts ceased at that moment. All he knew was immense happiness mixed with devastated disbelief.

_Professor Daimaoh knew his writings by heart…?_

“Thank you for your honesty, Son-kun. Your feelings are precious to me, and so are the artful, heartfelt expressions of it you create—in all its forms…"

This time, he couldn't stop it anymore. Gohan's façade crumbled as a renegade tear rolled down his cheek.

"But, as you know… I am your professor. And… a teacher is prohibited from having that kind of relationship with his student.”

It took some seconds before Gohan could process it. He reeled and fell back a step; contradicting emotions surging up inside of him all at once. _Hurt, anger, confusion, and incredulity_ were among those in the fore. One moment, his professor made his ailing heart swell with happiness; only to, the very next moment, drop it so callously and let it shatter to pieces at his feet. _Why was he being… so cruel?_

He tried to keep his composure, taking one steady breath at a time, but his chest hurt so badly and it wasn't just the figurative kind…

_What was he expecting anyway?_

Professor Daimaoh was right. It was foolish of him to even allow himself to hope… Well, at least, now he's done his part and confessed his feelings—now that he's spat out the whole shameful truth—he can finally move on…

Right?

With what little strength of will to move that he could muster, he turned on his heel once more and this time, urged himself on to exit as swiftly as he could—but gasped sharply, as he felt his arm held back in a firm hold.

“However… In less than three month’s time, I won’t be your professor anymore.…”

Just like that, Gohan’s heart had once again plunged down to his stomach and catapulted back up to get stuck in his throat. His eyes scrunched to slits, dislodging a few tears. He hazily watched them splatter on to the carpeted floor as if in slow motion; much more followed, no matter how much he inwardly protested. _What was his professor saying…_

_Was he saying that…?_

“Until then… You need to meet me here everyday after class from now on…”

Before he could vocalize all the new questions bombarding his mind, he was turned around and he found himself absent-mindedly staring at the piece of paper that was placed in his hands.

It was a letter of consent of some sort… All his dazed mind recognized then was his mother’s signature affixed at the bottom.

“…For your personal tutorial classes. I called your mother and informed her of your need for it, to which she readily agreed. If that’s fine by you, our lessons will begin as soon as tomorrow…”

Gohan could only nod breathlessly as an almost imperceptible—yet unmistakeably happy—smile formed on Professor Daimaoh's plush violet lips…

“It’s a date then.”

**The End.**


	2. Epilogue - Featuring Mr Vegeta Ou Jr, Ms Bloomer Briefs and (mentions of) Coach Kakarot

_Meanwhile, at the **Guidance Counsellor’s Office** …_

“Next!”

A teenager who looked too scrawny to even be in high school crept inside, his head held low.

“You again??” Mr Vegeta all but roared.

The boy flinched and ducked his head even lower. “T-the t-t-t-teacher sent me here—”

“Let me guess… You got bullied, AGAIN?? Didn’t I already tell you? This is the problem with Earth-born saps like yourself! You are too weak! An embarrassment to your kind! You need to train your body and get stronger! TRAIN, TRAIN, TRAIN! So you can fight back! A fist for a fist, that’s the only way!”

“B-b-but I wasn't really bulli—”

“No ‘but’s! Drop down now and give me a hundred!”

“Whu-o-one hundred??”

“One hundred push ups, what else?"

"B-b-but sir, I—"

"Unless, of course… _you would rather do A THOUSAND???_ ”

The boy didn’t know what caused him to wet his pants a little, the fact that Mr Vegeta did roar this time; or that a mini earthquake seemed to strike at exactly the same moment, making light dust particles rain down on them and trophies rattle in their display cases.

He sprawled on his belly on the carpeted floor and began attempting to lift himself off the ground on wobbly arms and legs.

“Uuughhhh, haaaannnggggghhhhh, wuuuuuuugghhhh—o-onnnnne…!”

The guidance counsellor, Vegeta Ou Jr stood beside his desk, tapping his foot “patiently” as he waited for the wheezing boy to reach two. The longer it took, the more urgent the tapping of his foot got.

The door to his office burst open.

“Mr Vegeta, there’s a long line of students waiting outside, what are you—oh!!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, woman?? Don’t you know how to KNOCK?”

“What on earth are you making the student do push-ups for??”

“Isn’t that obvious?? He is WEAK!”

“Oh, you…!! You’re a maniac, you know that??” The pretty woman in a powder pink corporate suit and short teal-haired locks in a bun, quickly bent down to usher the asthmatic student to his feet. “I’m so sorry about this, Tim-kun. This is all just some erm, _grotesque_ misunderstanding. Are you okay? There, why don’t you run along now…”

“What are you doing?? I’m not done with that sorry excuse for a talking bipedal!”

“Oh, for Dende’s sake! Enough of your machismo flakiness! Why are there so many students outside your office? They can’t all have done something wrong!”

“Woman, will you _please_ just stay out of this???”

“Hello?? I am the vice principal! So, NO. I CANNOT stay out of *THIS*—whatever that’s going on here *is*!!”

“This school is filled with snivelling wimps and spineless cowards! They all need to be trained! Which is precisely why I asked that derp-faced substitute gym teacher Kakarot to send every weakling in his class my way! I am doing all these saps a favour!”

“What?? You can’t do that! ‘Trained’?” Vice Principal Briefs sputtered, and then sputtered again, “‘TRAINED’?? You are a guidance counsellor! You’re supposed to be talking them through their problems and giving them advice! Not making them go through their own personal boot camp hell inside your office!”

“That reminds me, this office lacks important supplies I need for… _counselling_ .”

“Supplies? What supplies? Everything you need has already been provided for you. You have a computer, a printer, a—”

“I don’t have _training equipment_ ! How can I whip these worms into shape without proper training equipment? DUH.”

“Are you really—” Vice Principal Bloomer Briefs paused a moment, closed her eyes and took a deep, long, calming breath to stave off an oncoming hyperventilation attack… before shrieking, “—FUCKING INSANE??? You are NOT a gym teacher or a drill sergeant! You’re a guidance counsellor! Do you even even know what that is??”

“That’s why I told you before! That gym teaching position should have been mine! Not that lazy-ass degenerate’s!”

“Well, it so happens that Coach Kakarot’s credentials are far better suited for that position than yours!”

“WHAT??” Mr Vegeta’s face turned redder than a tomato’s in record time. “H-how could you—what are you even—!”

“Oh, psshh! Never mind that! If that’s all those students are here for, I’m sending them back to their classes!”

“DON'T YOU DARE!! Let the next one in!”

“Gggrrrr. Fine! But you had better give them some real advice for the REAL world—and be quick about it! No more push ups or any sort of physical hanky-panky whatsoever! Do I make myself clear??”

––

“What? You AGAIN?”

“I- I tried training but—”

“Well then, train some more! I’ll make sure your gym teacher monitors you extra closely from now on."

"B-but…"

“Next!!!”

––

“What's this? You were benched at gym class?? Tell me… Are you a _man_ ?? Or a _potato_??”

“Uhhhh, but-but m-my mother says I have some kind of spinal condition and that exercise could kill me so—”

“NONSENSE! You’re just not training hard enough! TRAIN HARD ENOUGH! I’ll send a memo to your gym teacher to make sure he trains you HARD ENOUGH!

“NEXT!!!”

**End of Epilogue.**   
(Vegeta fans, please don’t kill me. He made me do it.)

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Xenoverse/Super** /etc. belong to their respective owners. I own nothing except this derivative fanwork which I do not profit from.
> 
> * * *
> 
> (2018/02/04–2021/02/21)


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